


Over the Moon

by Lhugy_for_short



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Birthday Present, Bottom!Ignis, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Gladio is a true wingman, M/M, Mutual Pining, Spoiler alert it's sex, Tent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:48:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22615885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lhugy_for_short/pseuds/Lhugy_for_short
Summary: Ignis has spent the evening enjoying being pampered by his closest friends. No cooking, no cleaning, and definitely no tedious chores. What more could he possibly ask for on his special day - except for maybe a dream come true ending with his own Prince Charmless, of course.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 12
Kudos: 113





	Over the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I threw this together at the last minute so please forgive me for being late *sweats* And I apologize for any typos or mistakes or...yeah. Stuff like that. Happy belated birthday, Iggy! Go get you some!

It’s a brisk evening under a clear winter sky. Stars twinkle brilliantly overhead, brighter than usual in the dim light of the waning moon. Around their camp, the crackling fire casts a calming blue glow across the rocks, the tent, the table they’ve set up for cooking. Usually, Ignis would be too busy to appreciate the peaceful atmosphere. But this night….

He smiles as Prompto hands him a plate over the back of his camping chair. Dualhorn steak, grilled with mushrooms and greens, and topped with a hefty serving of steaming peppered shallots. It certainly _smells_ delicious, he thinks to himself, even as his eyes water at the stinging scent of the onions. Had he been cooking, of course, he might have opted for a less overpowering seasoning, but…. 

_No_. No, he’s promised to simply enjoy this evening whatever it brings, and so far it has brought nothing but his friends’ best efforts. Gladio is on duty at the grill, overseeing the production of his own personal recipe. He seems to be holding up well thanks, in part, to Prompto, who’s helping him dish out the meat and deliver it fireside. 

Even Noctis is helping that night in his own way. Instead of playing games on his phone or falling asleep in his chair, he’s sitting upright - and here’s what really warms Iggy’s heart - _sewing his own buttons back onto his jacket._

It feels almost like a dream come true. A vacation, in a way, from the tasks he would normally spend the evening doing himself. A chance to relax, and breathe in the crisp winter air, and watch (somewhat guiltily) the array of emotions that keep playing across the prince’s face. He pricks his finger yet again just as Gladio returns from the grill, his booming voice drowning out any curses that might be muttered under Noct's breath. 

“Dig in, guys! Hope you like your meat thick, juicy, and hot.” 

Prompto, plopping into his chair beside him, can’t resist a snort. “Come on, dude, it’s Iggy’s birthday. I thought we promised, ‘ _no filthy jokes_.’” 

“I requested no such thing,” Ignis smirks at them both. He waits until Noct, having temporarily given up on the nefarious buttons, sets aside his jacket long enough to accept a plate of steak from his friend. “But I do ask that if you’re going to make jokes, at least make them puns.” 

Already shoveling a forkful of meat into his mouth, Gladio shakes his head. “Nope. Not even on your special day, Igs.” 

“Sorry, I’m with the big guy on this,” Prompto grins, waving his fork in the direction of Gladio beside him. That leaves only Noctis. The other three turn to him, expectantly, but he merely shrugs his shoulders and swallows down a bitter bite of greens. 

“Don’t look at me. I’m already suffering enough over here.” 

Gladio gives him a look for that. Even Prompto flicks a disappointed shallot in his direction. But to both of their surprise, Ignis merely chuckles. “Honestly, I could ask for nothing more, Highness.” 

Chuckling laughter gives way to an almost tense silence. Several more heartbeats pass before Gladio, asking on behalf of the group, finally voices the question the others are all thinking. “You’re really okay with _this_ for your birthday, Igs? There’s nothing else you’re...kinda hoping for?” 

“Hmm?” Chewing thoughtfully, Ignis barely considers the question. Of course he’s pleased with the efforts they’ve gone to for him already. He’s been given a night off, couldn’t ask for better company to spend it with, and they don’t have to be up early in the morning. Truly, a perfect evening. “Not at all, Gladio. This is really quite a delightful surprise already.”

“Yeah, but….” Now Prompto scoots toward the edge of his seat, blue eyes scanning Ignis carefully. “Isn’t there, y’know, _someone_ you’d like to get a special present from today?” 

Even without the added eyebrow wiggling, Ignis is fairly certain he understands what Prompto is trying to ask him. But honestly, why in Eos would they think…? 

He catches sight of Noct watching him from beneath dark locks, and his breath lodges somewhere in his chest. Sea-blue eyes reflecting the mysterious light of the sky overhead, cool and questioning. Yet, all too soon, he turns his focus to the plate in lap again. 

Ignis’ world resumes spinning. Only a moment has passed, and yet…. _No._ If his cheeks have gone pink, he chalks it up to the cool air and shakes the thoughts off with a dry laugh. 

“Please, Prompto. What more could I possibly need than a relaxing evening with my closest friends? And with such a delicious feast, to boot.” He scoops up a large bite of shallots on the tip of his fork to emphasize his point - if only for the sake of a distraction. “Honestly, gentlemen. I must commend you. Certainly a birthday evening for the history books.” 

The others exchange looks - the kind that Ignis tries hard to ignore, because it means they’ve likely seen right through him anyway - but mercifully they let the topic slide. Prompto brings up the hunt they’d finished that afternoon, the one that had provided them with the very steaks they’re enjoying for dinner (give or take the onions), and the conversation flows on without a hiccup. Ignis smiles and listens, nodding occasionally while he chews at the grislier bits of meat. 

He certainly doesn’t flick his gaze ever so often across the fire, hoping to catch a glimpse of the prince’s face again. Nor does he let himself worry about the decidedly dejected look that Noct is wearing, the drawn frown that he reserves only for vegetables and those rare times that his feelings have been hurt. No, because that would make things too obvious. And it would only be a matter of time before he could no longer deny, at least to his closest friends, where his own yearning heart truly lay. 

_What do I really want for my birthday? Why, the answer is profoundly simple. It’s Noctis._

_It’s only ever been Noctis._

_But to be loved by a prince…. That is a gift best left to dreams._

The others are disappointed, but somehow not surprised, when Ignis gets to his feet and announces that he’s turning in early. 

“Aww, aren’t you gonna play cards with us?” Prompto asks. He’s already shuffling the deck overtop of one thigh, but pauses mid-bridge to affect a pout. “We picked out a game just for you.” 

He elbows Gladio, who adds quickly, “Yeah, how about strip poker? Noct can go first.”

“H-hey!” 

“Sorry,” Ignis smiles. A subtle adjustment of his glasses hides the flush of embarrassment that rises to his face at Gladio’s implication. “Though it certainly sounds _titillating_ , I’m afraid I prefer _not_ to wear my birthday suit out here in the cold. See you all in the morning.” 

“Fair enough. Night, Igs.” 

“Night, Specs.” 

“...Did he just say ‘ _tits?’_ You guys heard that, right? _”_

Shaking his head fondly, Ignis turns his back on the warmth of the campfire in favor of the solitude of their shared tent. It’s been far too long, he thinks, since he was able to fall asleep with a good book in his hands, or with any measurable degree of peace and quiet around him. Despite the way his friends are still chatting and playing outside, he can at least afford a semblance of privacy in here.

After changing into his sleep clothes - a simple, grey cotton shirt and long fleece pants - he nestles down into the comfort of his makeshift bed. It certainly is a far cry from the feathery mattress he owned back at his apartment in Insomnia, or even the futon he sometimes borrowed at Noct’s place. But, he hums to himself, Gladio may be right when he says there’s a certain magic to the great outdoors. Close to nature, free from the bustle and noise of the city. Even the lumpy bedroll padding beneath him has a unique charm to it. 

He swipes open his phone screen, sets his glasses aside, and yawns once before opening the bookmark of his reading app. Not the worst birthday he’s spent, that’s for sure. 

The light of the campfire has gone out when Ignis wakes again. The tent is dark, cast in shadows both inside and out, and at first he can’t understand what’s woken him. No noises outside, no rustling of sleeping bags or canvas. There doesn’t even seem to be a breeze on the air outside, though from the way his breath fogs the air, it’s clear the temperature has dropped significantly. 

Or...has it? The tip of Ignis’ nose tells him it’s gotten much colder, and yet for some reason, there’s a suspicious warmth pressing against his back. Suspicious in that when Ignis moves, the warmth moves with him. Moves _around_ him, even, feeling very much like two pairs of hands and two lanky arms and….

 _“Noctis?!”_ His voice is a practiced whisper, but the shock is evident in the urgency of his tone. The weight - more recognizable now as the not-quite-as-sneaky-as-he-hoped prince - shifts again, this time up onto one elbow so that his dark eyes catch the dim light of the moon and stars outside. 

“Hey. Uh. Did I wake you?” 

“Did you-?!” Adrenalin is spiking in his blood, a mix of panic and thrill at the compromising position he suddenly finds himself in. A quick survey around the tent (intentionally ignoring the prince’s line of sight) tells him that of their four sleeping bags, only his is currently occupied. _Doubly_ occupied, which is curious...and _doubly_ suspicious. “...What’s going on? Where are the others?”

“Them?” Noctis, all but hovering above him now as he leans right into Ignis’ frame of vision, shrugs. “They said they were gonna go sleep in the car. Said they wanted to give us some privacy.” 

Alright, now he’s heard enough. He’s grateful for the shadows that hide the all-too obvious flare of crimson to his cheeks. Scoots himself into a quasi-decent sitting position (though still, he can’t help but notice, trapped under the prince) and attempts to put a semblance of distance between their hips at any rate. “Privacy for _what_ , exactly?”

In hindsight, that one question is Ignis’ undoing. Noct can already sense it, is already smiling at the opening that’s been laid bare in front of him. As he answers, he slowly crawls into place back over Ignis’ lap. “For your birthday present.”

There’s almost no hesitation between the last syllable falling off his lips and the next moment, when they’re brushing against the corner of Ignis’ mouth. Soft. _Warm_. Every bit as perfect and tempting as Iggy’s ever dreamed they might be. Inviting, too, so that even the voices of reason resounding in his head are forced to shut up for a glorious few heartbeats. 

Noctis...is kissing him. Perhaps, he thinks somewhere in the depths of his mind, this isn’t real. Perhaps this is just a dream after all, and if so then why not just go for it? What’s the harm in indulging another innocent fantasy? 

It’s an excuse, at best, but still he doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead lifts his hands up to cup the tender curves of Noctis’ jaw as he closes his eyes in the kiss. Like this, it’s easier to focus on the prince’s lips. On the feeling of them sliding over his own, pecking sweetly here and there. On the taste of his tongue, flicking out every so often as if seeking a way in, checking for a weakness in Ignis’ defenses. 

He locates a breach with surprising ease. That tongue slides into his mouth and suddenly Ignis finds himself moaning, the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding escaping him with a delicious shudder. Apparently, the prince notices it, too. Where his hands had been sinking into either side of the sleeping bag umder Ignis’ hips, they now come up to rest more purposefully on his chest instead.

The new contact, perfect as it is, forces Ignis at last to break for air. There’s that panic again, nagging at him from just below the surface. Reminding him that it isn’t too late to turn back, that if they keep going like this…. 

Well, there are some lines that can never be _uncrossed_. 

“High...ness,” he breathes. He doesn’t trust his own voice, _can’t_ trust it because what he really wants to say will only drag them both deeper into this trap. “Noctis. We shouldn’t…. We should stop.” 

“Why?” 

So simple, so innocent. Noct presses forward again, trying to reclaim Ignis’ lips, and frowns when they shift just out of reach. “Iggy, come on. What are you so afraid of? Gladio said it’s super obvious that you’ve been wanting this for a long time.”

“H-he...should mind his own business, then.”

“Ig- _gy_.” 

“ _Noctis_.”

It’s a stalemate. Between Noct’s pout (made all the more irresistible by the extra glisten on his kiss-slick lips) and Ignis’ stern gaze (somehow far less effective with the need still written there) neither is willing to budge. They might have spent the rest of the night like that, locked in a very unbecoming struggle of wills in a very indecent position, had the prince not decided to take matters into his own hands. 

Literally. 

“Listen. I know you, Iggy. Maybe better than anyone else knows you. I _know_ ,” he continues, and draws his fingers up to the collar of Ignis’ sleep shirt. “That thing you do with your eyes - the little smiles you get in the corners - when you think I’m not looking.”

He pops the first button and Ignis, spellbound, can only gulp. 

“I know the sounds you make when you’re happy. Like, _really_ happy, not like the show you put on over Gladio’s dinner.”

“N-Noctis--” 

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell him. But hear me out, Specs.” A second button comes undone, followed in quick succession by a third, and a fourth. Noct slides his shirt open so smoothly Ignis is tempted to ask where the _real_ prince is hiding - at least until warm fingers brush over an exposed nipple, and he swallows back his words with a moan instead. 

Looking victorious, Noct grins. “You gotta admit. It sounds like you liked that a lot.”

How? How can he possibly deny it when his lips are still quivering, and his sleep pants are stretched uncomfortably tight across his lap? What can he say that won't be an obvious lie, when the prince so clearly knows exactly what he's playing at?

"Noctis… Noct, I…."

"Mmm?" Those soft, kissable lips lean in closer again. 

"I need to know. Do you…?" Ignis swallows. It's difficult to think, to form words, but this…this is important to him. He tries again. "Do you want this, as well, Noctis? If this is some game those two put you up to, then--"

"Woah, h-hey. You think…? Iggy, _seriously_ ." When he laughs, it's harsh, a puff of air through his nose as he brings his hands up to frame Ignis' face. Noct offers an awkward smile - he's not much good at this either, it seems - and forces heavy emeralds to focus on his gaze in turn. "You really have no idea? I love you. I've _always_ loved you, Iggy. I…kinda thought that was obvious, with all the vegetables and sewing and-- _Mm!!"_

This time, it's Ignis who brings their mouths crashing together in the dark of the tent. His emotions spill over, drive him forward right into the prince's waiting arms and against those lips he's dreamt about for so long. _Too_ long, maybe, if what Noct says is true. All the times he's wanted to do this, all the wasted opportunities when the prince might have felt the same. Dream or not, he's determined now to make up for lost time. 

_Yes,_ he thinks as his arms embrace Noctis fully now. _Yes, I love you, too._ That warm body above him, so much firmer in places now than he imagined, melts into his lap like butter. Sinks against his lips as the kiss deepens with it, all tongues and soft sighs and thudding heartbeats. Noct's shirt rides up in the back when he rolls his body forward, and Ignis takes the opportunity to explore every new inch of smooth skin. 

"Iggy," comes the half-whine, half-sigh from the prince's lips. Ignis can feel him shivering, the muscles in his back twitching with every minute touch. "I have…a confession to make."

"I'm listening." 

"Your present. It, um. Wasn't just the kiss." 

Loathe to break contact completely, Ignis trails his mouth down to Noct's chin, then back up along his jaw as he hums. "Oh?" 

A nod, albeit shakily. Noctis releases his grip on Iggy's shoulder long enough to reach into the back pocket of his dark jeans. He presses something square, smooth, and silver into the center of Ignis' chest. "Uh, Gladio kinda chipped in, too." 

Ignis stares down at the yet-unopened condom (for that’s certainly what it is) in a mixture of surprise, hope, and absolute mortification. To think that somewhere out by the road, their other two friends are probably lounging inside the Regalia snickering about the details unfolding at camp…. 

It's enough to make him want to put whole Lieden peppers in their eggs for breakfast. 

"Relax, Iggy," Noct, reading his expression, smiles at him. Another kiss, chaster this time yet full of promise, is planted on his lips, successfully drawing his attention back to the more important matter at hand. "We don't have to, of course. But…if you want to, I want to, too."

 _Noctis…is asking to have sex with me. He_ wants _me._ Ignis' brain is still struggling to catch up with the situation. It's churning, processing, still stuck somewhere between 'this must be a dream' and 'I'm definitely going to be fired' by the time Noct makes up his mind for him. All it takes is a soft brush of fingers against the front of his pants - against the evident need straining the fabric there - to have his defenses crumbling like a fortress of sand. 

"Would you do the honors?" is all he can manage to squeak out before his prince is tumbling into him again. 

It's a tight fit to make it work in the tent. In the end, they decide to forego the warmth of the sleeping bag in lieu of more space laid out across their four shared bed rolls instead. Ignis insists on pampering Noctis first, of course, going so far as to bat his hands away as he peels his clothing off layer by layer. Each piece that's tossed aside is instantly replaced with a shower of kisses, bolder now that he's accepted that _yes_ , this is really happening, and _yes_ , if he's sacked then it will have been well worth the price. His lips trail reverently down Noct's chest, his exposed stomach, the sharp ridge of his hip bone on the way to what awaits below: his cock, hard and as perfect as the rest of him. 

_Sensitive_ , too, Ignis discovers when he presses his mouth to the smooth underside. The prince nearly bolts off the bedroll at the contact. It's only Iggy's hands on his thighs, and the limited space of the tent, that keep him grounded, but he makes sure to hold on tight for the rest of the ride. 

Ignis tries not to rush. He wants to savor the moment, the taste, the _weight_ of Noct's flesh between his lips. He wants this incredible moment to last forever. And yet he's almost as impatient as the body beneath him, his own veins coursing with adrenaline and hormones that make taking it slow damn near impossible. So he does his best to slick Noct's length, adding an extra sweet suckle at the tip for good measure, before he's pulling back for the next step. 

From the shadowy pillow upon which his head is laid, Noct watches with fascination. He's a virgin - at least, Ignis is pretty certain he is - and his inexperience is clear the moment he tries to open the condom. He fumbles it, swears, grabs it off his stomach, drops it again. Smiles weakly when Ignis offers to take over, then promptly chokes when he tears it open between his teeth. 

Dark blue eyes, suddenly round as the moon, fix on him. "Do you…? Have you, um, done this before, Specs?" 

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to, darling." A tender kiss distracts them both. Noct from his own curiosity (he definitely won't be letting that go anytime soon) and Ignis from the burn of his spit-slicked index finger sliding into the heat between his ass cheeks. There isn't much discomfort, not for long anyway, but he's still far too impatient to bother with a proper job. It'll do, he thinks, smiling with anticipation against Noct's mouth. For this, he's more than willing to handle it. 

His own shirt is the last to join the pile of discarded clothing growing in the corner of the tent. It leaves all of him exposed now, naked and on display for his prince, who drinks in the sight like cool water on a hot Lestallum day. Trembling fingers - excited, nervous - slide up the inside of his thighs. Over Iggy’s cock, which, like Noct's, is swollen with the thrill of what they're sharing together. Further still, up over his lower stomach to the more defined panels of his abdomen, until they finally come to rest on either side of his waist. 

"You're _…gorgeous_ , Iggy." 

His skin tints another shade redder at the praise. "Highness. You flatter me."

"F-fuck, I…. I wanted to be cooler about this…." 

"Nonsense." Ignis lowers himself, starting with his arms and bringing his chest, his face in close enough to share another kiss. Then his backside, more carefully as he uses his hand to guide the head of Noctis' cock to his opening. "I love you exactly as you are." 

"N _nhh!"_

The need for words is gone. As Ignis eases himself down, inch by inch onto his prince's eager cock, he focuses on simply _being_ in the moment. On the sounds Noct makes and the sensation of being gradually filled by him. On the grip of familiar fingers around his waist, his hips, his thighs, urging him closer, deeper, _faster._ The pace builds naturally until he's sliding along his length without resistance, each upwards thrust of that hardness into his body forcing shallower breaths from his lips. 

"Noc…tis!" he moans. Feels the prince lift his hips off the bedroll to meet him on the next pass, and _gods,_ he's never seen so many stars! _Right there!_ Maybe he cries it, maybe the sound he makes instead is enough to get the message across. Maybe Noctis just wants more of the same. But soon the tent is tilting, and Ignis is the one on his back as his prince is locking once more into place between his legs. 

Despite his inexperience, he proves a fast learner. Ignis leaves his pleasure solely in Noct's hands (as it were), content to kiss him, stroke him, moan his name into the now-heated air right up to the end. Which comes perhaps too quickly (Noctis really can't help it) but is still a spectacular show when it happens. A rigid prince, his face a mask of pleasure and exertion, every ounce of his energy poured into the climax…. In that moment, Ignis sees a brilliant vision of the man he will one day call King. 

And it's nearly enough to do him in as well. Three quick strokes of his cock have him exploding over his stomach, as well as onto the innocent bedrolls beneath him. A mess, he supposes as Noct falls into his waiting arms below, that's just going to have to wait until morning. 

It's his birthday, after all. And he's still over the moon after the best present yet of his young life. 

* * *

Prompto and Gladio don't wake them when they return to camp at first light. Even without unzipping the tent, they can guess at the scene waiting on the other side: one very sleepy prince curled up in the arms of his very content advisor, and probably wearing a lot less clothing than either of them are used to seeing. 

With a knowing grin and a victorious high five, the pair sets to work getting breakfast started for the lovers in bed. 

What neither of them realize, naturally, is that the tent is in fact quite empty. Ignis has already taken the liberty of dragging his prince for a brisk jaunt down to the nearby stream. There, under the pretense of bathing, Noct is currently pinned to the side of a slick rock, receiving a present of his own in the form of Ignis' tongue buried deep in the heat of his body. 

By Iggy's reasoning, it more than makes up for the fact that they all forgot to get him a birthday cake. 

**Author's Note:**

> Get it? Cause instead of cake he...gets to eat...Noct's ass...... 
> 
> I'll show myself out.


End file.
